


Standing Date: With Death.

by Lopaka_Tanu



Category: Doctor Who, Highlander: The Series, Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 08:06:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1543688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lopaka_Tanu/pseuds/Lopaka_Tanu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dying reveals a secret relationship between two of history's longest lived nuisances.</p>
<p>Remix of the fic: <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/153458">Standing Date</a> by <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/lferion/pseuds/lferion">lferion</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Standing Date: With Death.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lferion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lferion/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Standing Date](https://archiveofourown.org/works/153458) by [lferion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lferion/pseuds/lferion). 



The act of dying makes a person philosophical about life, apparently.

As one can imagine, the fruits of labor tend to vary. The harder you work is supposed to be better for you, that what you gain justifies the efforts in a just society. It's all quite a bit of nothing in the end, of course. You toil your short, miserable life away for something, then you die. The end. That, as they say, is all she wrote. How very poetic and quite melodramatic.

Still, there are those of a mind that death is merely a beginning, a 'revelation unto something greater'. Not true, at least, not for me. For me, death and life are much the same, a single great revelation. Life held suspicions that death confirmed, only the packaging changed. 

For someone else, the grand revelation brought more questions.

Today, I watched a young man die. He worked not studiously at his job, but he served a purpose. There should be nothing different of this one from the next, as I've seen plenty of young men in his position. I've seen many of young men in his position die; far too many, I'm afraid. I watched him die and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. The killer was not-sufficiently provoked, the young man was neither innocent or guilty, it simply happened.

We all died. There was nothing special about the event itself. Many people die in similar a manner all the time. Poison gas, albeit from a drug addicted space plant, is hardly an original method of murder. There was still something different today.

A young man died at his job, pissing about in a corner while the fate of millions lay in the balance. It should have been utterly ordinary. Yet, Pierce Adamson got up and walked away from the rows of bodies at Ten Downing today.

There has been but one man I have seen complete such a feat. Today, there are now two.

In fitting with the rest of his actions, his next choice of visiting a pub felt...predictable. His choice of companions, however, left a great deal to be desired.

***

"I warned you going today would be a rotten idea. You'd think after our many encounters, you might listen. Then again, heeding advice has never been your kind's strong suit, I'm afraid." The Doctor was a bit smug in his admonishment. That was hardly something new. It was, in fact, part of the reason he tended to be hunted rather than revered as the sage he could be.

"So sorry. I forgot that you were clairvoyant. What was I thinking?" A pint arrived for Pierce before the man had taken his seat at the bar. His sleeves were gently rolled before he picked up the glass and sprawled over the stool. The coat he had been in minutes before was probably at the bottom of a rubbish bin blocks away.

The Doctor snorted. It was easier for this one with his bigger nose. His...Eleventh incarnation, if my recollection was correct. There have been more than a Time Lord of his age should make use of. He was like a child with a new pair of wellies to try, no mind for the rest of his ensemble. Speaking of, at least this one wasn't so tightly buttoned.

Pierce held his pint in salute. "Fine, I acknowledge your brilliance and promise not to ignore it in the future."

"Mine or yours." A straight line from the Timelord, which was quickly followed by a bit of tittering.

Sighing, the urge to wince and rub my face was almost overwhelming.

This form's sense of humor was rather banal. Considering his past attempts at joking, it was a new low.

My reaction was hardly unique as Pierce grimaced.

Taking a sip of his beer, the young man winced again, then glared at the glass. "Must be new owners."

"Not the pub. The brewery, can't say." Raising his own glass of brown liquid, the Doctor took a long, slow drink. His Adam's Apple bobbed with each swallow.

I sighed again. This was almost as dull as Cricket. For two beings capable of putting off the normal function of death, they certainly did ordinary well. There's something quite disturbing about that. Is this what immortality was like, passing for normal in a normal pub on a normal afternoon? Maybe my father was correct, I had gone to hell for giving Professor Tovey a tug in fifth year sciences.

"You know, you're not so subtle as you think."

The comment from three stools down raised my eyebrows. There was no one between us, but, still, I looked to see if Pierce was addressing someone else. One glance to the sly grin allayed any doubts. I could choose to ignore it, feign ignorance, but, the whole effort seemed pointless.

Of course, not to be left out or ignored, the Doctor had to poke his new, pointy nose in. "Perhaps he is shy."

Clearing my throat bought me a moment and moistened my mouth. Keeping my eyes on the bar was an old habit Jack had been trying to break me of for years. Death hardly changed that. "Perhaps he is bored." I could almost feel the lascivious smile that would be aimed at me had he been here. Raising my gaze, I focused my attention on Pierce. He was the unknown variable here, after all. "I've been debating whether this is hell or if beings of your abilities really do lack excitement."

The narrowed eyes were the only physical reaction from the man. "Cheeky, if a bit full of himself." Taking another drink, he swallowed half the glass.

The Doctor leaned over Pierce's shoulder. "He reminds me of someone."

Pierce sighed, heavy enough to weigh the house down. "Do not start on that. The last time, we ended up with a mopey brat that liked to wear polish."

Snorting, the doctor smiled slowly, one that wrinkled half his face. "As I recall, you saw his disposition as a challenge." He wrapped an arm around Pierce's other shoulder, to clap him on the chest. "That's not what I'm talking about, though. At least, I think not. There's something about this one that's...familiar." He finished that last with a low, rumbling purr.

I could almost hear the perimeter alerts from the Hub resounding in my ears. Now was the time to depart.

"You don't say." Finishing his pint, Pierce swallowed with a hiss of pleasure. "This swill is starting to grow on me." His eyes were upon me, as if glued, lips thinned in satisfaction. "Maybe I'll try another and see where the night takes me."

The casual ease of which I stood surprised even me. If one was paying attention, there'd be no indication I was about to flee. Inclining my head, I gave them a tight smile. "Maybe another time, gentlemen." This situation was best played out to minimize the attention. Hand going to my waistcoat, I felt for, then pulled out my pocket watch. Checking the time gave me an excuse to break eye contact. "I've got another appointment, I'm afraid."

"Who are you?" Voice going hard and flat, the Doctor's hand clenched Pierce's bicep. "I know everyone..."

"And we know you, sir. Good day." My pocket watch was closed with a quick snap and a smile. Stuffing it back in my pocket, I nodded once more and turned for the door. A few steps and I could disappear in the rush hour, take the tube, and be away from all this.

"Do I know you?"

Pain blossomed in my chest at the sad desperation in those words. Grabbing the buttons on my coat, I carefully slipped them in the holes. "No," it was almost a whisper. A pitying thing of regret, more from the fact that I even had to say this. This truly was a new low point in my short existence. Before I could take those needed steps, a hand settled on my wrist, tight and unyielding. It was a toned hand used to hard work, but not callused from farming or machine.

"Who are you?"

I would not turn around. There was no point to it, this encounter was already doomed and about to be over. Still, this close, Pierce and the Doctor behind me, so close I could feel the heat of their bodies, I could not pass up the opportunity, the chance at one quick tug of their tails. The response came, whispered in the back of my mind with a mischievous grin that had never truly been maternal. "Spoilers, sweetie."

There came a pained gasp from the Doctor and his presence drew away.

"Spoilers..." Pierce's voice held a world of confusion. "What kind of answer is that?"

"Let him go." When there was no response from the hand on my arm, the Doctor softened his voice. "Methos, trust me."

Ah. That explained a few things.

"Please, just let...him go." The hesitation was filled with a soft groan. It was as if the words pained the Doctor more than a direct shot to the gut.

They worked their magic, and my wrist was reluctantly freed. If his fingers trailed over my skin, I didn't care to make an issue of it. Shaking out my cuff, I continued on my way. The pub's doorbell rung cheerfully as I pushed my way through.

Mystery solved, curiosity satisfied, I could now choose what to do next. It was a decision that wasn't so obvious. The others would have to handle the current world crises without me. Besides, there would be no going back this time. Couldn't explain it away with any real conviction, and Jack would certainly be unbearable until I did. 

Stepping into the evening sun, I was left with the question of why the Doctor and Methos would meet in a pub enough times to at least be familiar with the beer. 

***

"You're a hard person to track down." 

"And you're extremely boring." A uni library, the perfect place to avoid immortals and aliens, if you didn't happen to live in bloody Cardiff, apparently. It had been an idea, a very terrible one.

"You're a brunette now. Pity, I quite fancied the ginger look, myself." Adam P. Adamson, according to his uni badge, was full of smarmy whispers. "You know, it's the one thing he's never been."

"That's really quite fascinating, Mr. Adamson, but I'm quite busy at the moment. Try the front desk, I'm certain they can help you with whatever you have need of there." Pushing his ID back across the desk, I tried not to note the information on it. Old habits died hard.

"Oh, but what I am looking for is right here."

I tried not to sigh. Any sign of weakness would be taken as an assent. He wasn't hard to gauge.

Immortal, sarcastic, randy as a buck, I knew the type. There was only one way of deterring them.

Taking a deep breath, I looked the immortal directly in the eye. "He's my biological donor."

"Your..." Adamson frowned, eyebrows drawing tight in confusion. After two heartbeats, they ascended his forehead. "Oh. Well...I see."

"Not really, but I'm sure you can get the gist of it. Now, goodbye, sir." With that, I went back to my work on a fascinating card catalogue.

It took him a moment, but he eventually wandered away. Or, so I thought.

"How's that work," came from behind me.

Coming back to Cardiff had been the most supremely ignorant of all ideas. It hadn't worked in the past, why did I think it would work now, even with a new face? I blame Him for this, truly, I do. Nothing good ever comes from being associated with the Doctor. It must be in the DNA.

"You know, I know this prissy Scottsman. He's pretty high-strung and completely anal about things too."

 

THE END...................


End file.
